


A Tone Which Is Now Forever Fled

by Vermin_Disciple



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Episode: s03e15 Destiny, Humor, M/M, Regret, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29191527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vermin_Disciple/pseuds/Vermin_Disciple
Summary: Dax realizes something a couple of centuries too late.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak, Tobin Dax/Iloja of Prim (One-Sided)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 87
Collections: Star Trek: Just in Time Fest





	A Tone Which Is Now Forever Fled

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Надежд невозвратных в них блещут огни](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29907390) by [Kollega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kollega/pseuds/Kollega)



> Title from Percy Bysshe Shelley's Time Long Past.

“I prefer the serialist poets from the First Republic, like Iloja of Prim. He's easily my favorite Cardassian writer.”

This was a rather cheap trick of Curzon’s for feigning omniscience. In fact, Dax had read a grand total of three Cardassian writers, and two of them had been serialist poets. The third work Jadzia had only read half of, merely to see if Julian’s complaints about it were justified.

“It is so rare to meet a non-Cardassian who appreciates our literature,” said Ulani, as impressed as Jadzia had intended.

“I took an interest because I had the chance to meet Iloja.”

Both of their visiting scientists were taken aback.

“You knew him?” said Gilora eagerly.

“One of my previous hosts, Tobin, met him when he was in exile on Vulcan. As I recall, he had quite a temper,” said Jadzia.

Of the two serialist poets Tobin had read, the second had been recommended by Iloja, apparently so that Iloja would have someone to rant to about his rival’s many deficiencies. Tobin had meekly and (he thought) politely stated that he’d liked Esio’s work, and Iloja had explained to the poor fellow in exacting detail why he was wrong.

Jadzia basked for a moment in Ulani’s awe. She’d been reading the woman’s work in anticipation of this collaboration, and she had a sharp mind as well as a lovely face.

The evening went downhill from that point, first with the arrival of the sullen Dejar, then with the revelation that Ulani was married. (This wouldn’t have mattered much to Curzon, but it did matter to Jadzia, unless she was certain that the marriage was as open as the interested party claimed. Emony had only just escaped a duel with an irate husband after listening too readily to a lover’s claims on that subject. But then, that sort of thing was always happening to Emony.)

Dax had learned to be philosophical about small disappointments, however, and still looked forward to working with Ulani and her colleagues on what promised to be a very interesting project.

* * *

Interesting, it turned out, had been an understatement. After their guests departed the station, Jadzia found herself badly in need of a drink. As she sauntered into Quark’s she heard Julian’s laughter from across the room and went to investigate.

“You knew about this!” accused Miles. “You could have given me some warning.”

“I didn’t think it would come up,” said Julian, still chuckling.

“Didn’t think what would come up?” asked Jadzia, taking a seat at their table.

“The Chief here just found out the hard way that Cardassians flirt by arguing.”

“If you’d just told me that I wouldn’t have gotten myself into trouble with Gilora,” grumbled Miles. Jadzia didn’t point out that the finer points of Cardassian culture weren’t something he would have been keen to discuss even if Julian had brought the subject up. “And I would’ve thought twice before complaining about the cut of my trousers the last time I was in Garak’s.”

“Garak’s spent enough time around non-Cardassians to know when someone’s flirting with him, and he speaks fluent Standard. Part of the problem you had with Gilora is the universal translator,” said Julian, sliding into a more authoritative tone and looking quite pleased with himself for having this knowledge to impart. (That particular expression of his always reminded Dax of Lela’s son, Ahjess, and as such she was quite fond of it.) “There are differences in tone that indicate _why_ someone is starting an argument with you that are obvious in Kardasi, but they don’t come across through the translator. And if the Cardassian you’re talking to is more of a traditionalist, then there are certain topics that are considered more appropriate, like art or philosophy or literature.”

“Aren’t those the sort of topics you and Garak argue about every time you have lunch together?” asked Jadzia, innocently.

“Not _every_ time,” said Julian. “And anyway, that’s different.”

“Really,” said Miles, flatly.

“It’s _Garak_. Just because he flirts with me doesn’t mean he _means_ anything by it.”

It was true enough that Garak often flirted with people just as a matter of course. But as far as she knew, he didn’t use this apparently traditional Cardassian style of flirtation with anyone else, something Julian did not seem to have noticed.

“And what about you?” asked Miles.

Julian shot Miles a look that said, _how stupid do you think I am?_ Miles responded with a look that said, _definitely stupid enough to have sex with a known Cardassian spy and maybe even stupid enough to fall for him._

“Look, _I_ know it’s a game and _he_ knows I know it’s a game and I know he knows I know it. It’s not as if we’re on the verge of ripping one another’s clothes off in the replimat!”

“By Cardassian standards you probably _are_ ,” said Miles.

Something suddenly occurred to Dax. “So if a Cardassian wanted to use literature or something to indicate that they were interested in you, how exactly would they go about it?”

“Well,” said Julian, thoughtfully, “they would probably just ask your opinion of a particular work, and then vehemently disagree with it, whatever they actually thought.”

Soft laughter burbled out of Jadzia’s throat before she could stop it. “Oh, poor Tobin. _That_ never would have occurred to him.”

Tobin hardly ever noticed if someone was flirting with him, which people rarely did to begin with. Tobin Dax had not been a physically attractive man and had little charisma to make up for it. But, Dax supposed, he might have appeared terribly exotic to a Cardassian. From a Cardassian perspective, he would even have seemed personable, compared to the Vulcans Iloja resided among.

“Is this about that Cardassian poet?” asked Miles.

“What Cardassian poet?” asked Julian, scrunching up his forehead in confusion.

“Iloja of Prim,” said Jadzia. “Tobin met him when he was in exile, and he assumed Iloja didn’t like him much. I suppose I should thank you for clearing up that little misunderstanding, even if it is 150 years too late to do anything about it. What a missed opportunity!” Jadzia shook her head. “None of Dax’s hosts has ever been involved with a Cardassian before, let alone an infamous one.”

“Garak doesn’t like him much. Or claims not to, anyway,” said Julian. “Not enough reverence for Cardassia, I suppose. I found his verses quite refreshing after reading Esio’s jingoistic propaganda. They’re so much more personal and poignant.”

The most personal and poignant of Iloja’s poems centered on his own exile. Jadzia wondered if Garak’s dislike of them (assuming he truly did dislike them) was less a matter of patriotism than of identification.

Tobin, who had never thought too deeply about anything that wasn’t an engineering problem, had not given Iloja’s situation the consideration it deserved. Jadzia, examining Tobin’s memories across nearly two centuries, saw the despair and loneliness under the façade of convivial conversationalist prone to periodic flashes of ire. Tobin had been fascinated and intimidated by turns, but hadn’t thought to keep up any correspondence after he’d left Vulcan. If he’d recognized the proposition, would he have accepted? It was difficult to say with Tobin, even for someone who had once quite literally walked in his shoes.

One of the things they taught you in the Initiate program was not to dwell too much on the guilts or disappointments or mistakes of past hosts. Naturally, that was always easier said than done. Jadzia thought of Julian and Garak and their pretense of idle, meaningless flirtation, and of Iloja, alone among aliens, and wondered what Dax’s later hosts would find in her life to regret.

Perhaps it was time to have a conversation with Julian about the merits of acting on one’s opportunities before it was too late.


End file.
